


keep your friends close but your enemies closer

by gossamerthoughts



Category: Glee
Genre: BAMF Santana Lopez, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Caring Sebastian Smythe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Minor Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, New York City, Post-High School, Santana Lopez & Sebastian Smythe Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamerthoughts/pseuds/gossamerthoughts
Summary: Santana didn't expect to ever feel this way about a guy. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she wanted to push him into a dumpster or to push him into her. But they kept each other close, because like the saying goes: keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. High school -> NYC (Sebtana)
Relationships: Santana Lopez & Sebastian Smythe, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**prologue: in the city that never sleeps**

_In New York  
_ _Concrete jungle where dreams are made of  
_ _There's nothin' you can't do  
_ _Now you're in New York  
_ _These streets will make you feel brand new  
_ _Big lights will inspire you_

_— Jay-Z, "Empire State of Mind"_

* * *

It was somewhere between an ungodly early hour and an ungodly late hour. Santana didn’t really know — quite honestly, time tended to flow in a strange wave those nights at the diner.

She wiped down her last table, only to see Rachel point at a previously unoccupied booth. All she could see was the back of his head, his dark and perfectly coiffed hair pissing her off because all she wanted to was sit in the back and organize silverware, not wait on some annoying customer who was probably drunk or a weirdo.

“Maybe he’s famous,” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the table, fighting the urge to curse out Rachel under her breath. She’s trying to be a nicer person to her roommate these days, after all.

“Hi. What can I get you?” she asked. A little hint of snark crept its way into her voice, but she let it slide. After all, she _was_ annoyed.

The dark-haired man looked up from the menu he was studiously perusing. A wide, almost cocky grin flashed across his face as he surveyed her shocked look.

“Hello, Santana,” Sebastian Smythe said.

“Oh fuck,” Santana said


	2. annie's not okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana and Sebastian duel.

**chapter 1: annie’s not ok**

  
_Mouth to mouth_   
_Resuscitation_   
_Sounding heartbeats, intimidation_   
_Annie, are you ok?_

_— Michael Jackson, “Smooth Criminal”_

* * *

Santana had been hearing from Kurt for ages about how this new Warbler was getting on his pretty-boy nerves. How he was hitting on Blaine, lurking at the Lima Bean with his cocky smile, blah blah blah… honestly, he sounded a little like the gay boy version of her, and some of the things Sebastian had said to Kurt were downright funny (though Santana hid her smirk).

But the glee club losers were _her_ losers, and no one messed with them but her.

That’s why she showed up in that parking garage to demand that they give up singing Michael at Sectionals.

That’s why she finally saw him, singing head-on with Artie, she decided that he had a pretty punchable face. Something about that self-assured smile made her want to wipe it right off his face.

So she danced up to him until they were face to face. They circled each other like two lions stalking prey, like two boxers in the ring. She couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to lock in step, lyric for lyric, stepping to the beat. It almost made her smile.

That was, until the asshole threw a slushie right into Blaine’s face.

As Blaine screamed on the ground, she glared up at Sebastian, who genuinely looked sorry for an instant, before his smirk reappeared and his eyes cleared of any emotion.

* * *

“Hey Andrew McCarthy,” Santana said as she strode into the music room, looking full-on hot-as-hell (just like she intended) in her tight black dress and high heels. “Don’t know if you heard, but Blaine might lose an eye. The same Blaine who was just besties with you four months ago.”

She surveyed Sebastian carefully. He managed to somehow look contrite and aggravated while crossing his arms and checking her out. _Wasn’t this dude gay?_ she thought. _One point for me_.

“Wait, are you serious? Is he gonna be okay?” the chunky Warbler to Sebastian’s right said, earning himself a glare from his captain.

“Well, sure if he doesn’t want to be seeing in three dimensions.”

“Trent, I got this,” Sebastian snapped.

_Ha, Trent. That checks out._

“Bummer. About Blaine. He was pretty. He shouldn’t have gotten in the way, though. That slushie was meant for Kurt.” His arms were still fully crossed, but Satana saw right through that “I-don’t-care-what-happens-to-Blaine act."

Maybe this asshole _actually_ cared about Blaine, after all. Though he very clearly gave zero shits about Kurt.

“You may look like the villain out of a cheesy 80’s high school movie,” she noted that he grinned at that, clearly enjoying the comparison. Santana continued, “but you should know that I’m fully prepared to go Danny LaRusso on your ass,” walking up to him until they were almost nose to nose. “Admit you put something in that slushie. What was it, huh? Glass? Asphalt?”

“Red dye #6,” he said.

“You’re a liar.”

“She questioned my honor. I demand satisfaction… in Warbler tradition.”

“You want a duel? Cello guys, can you hang back for a moment? I’ll need you for this.”

“Everyone else, clear out. I don’t want you to see me make a girl cry.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Let’s just keep this on point.”

As the cellos started, Santana sat down in one of the ugly-ass yellow chairs, carefully crossing her legs. She smirked as Sebastian’s eyes traced up her leg as her dress rode up.

He narrowed his eyes, looking determined.

She crossed her arms.

He started to pace, drawing closer. As he started to sing, she found herself a little shocked — this rich white boy was actually good, even without his little acapella boy band doo-wopping behind him.

He was so close that she could feel his hot breath on her neck. She looked up at him, swallowing a lump in her throat. _Concentrate, bitch,_ she told herself. _Don’t let this lame-ass Warbler beat you at your own game._

She got up as he stood to face her. “Annie, are you okay,” he sang, quirking an eyebrow.

They fell into a rhythm, a well-matched dance that they both seemed to know the steps to.

_“You’ve been hit by_   
_you’ve been struck by_   
_a smooth criminal.”_

They both inhaled at the same time as the song finished, eyes locking.

The silence stretched for a moment too long. They were close enough to kiss.

“I was better,” Santana proclaimed, breaking them out of the moment.

“You weren’t even close,” Sebastian scoffed, turning away.

“I was better,” she repeated. “Now tell me the truth, what did you put in that slushie?”

“Rock salt,” he said, his back still turned as he walked away. “But it’s okay.”

“Why is it okay?” she demanded. “I just told you that Blaine needed to have surgery.”

“It’s okay,” he said, taking something from his Warbler minions, who had conveniently appeared. She wondered if they had been listening with their ears pressed to the door. “Because there isn’t anything in this one.”

He finally turned to face her again... and threw the slushie right into her face.

As Santana spluttered in outrage (this was one of her best outfits, goddammit, and _no one_ slushied Santana Lopez), she caught the almost-guilty, almost-sorry look in Sebastian’s eyes again. Not that that made her forgive him.

That day, Sebastian Smythe had made himself an enemy.


	3. i would say i'm sorry if i really meant it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana ventures into Dalton to seek some answers.

**chapter 2: i would say i’m sorry if i really meant it**

  
_What you want from me?_   
_I would say I'm sorry if I really meant it_   
_F*** apologies_   
_I would say I'm sorry if I really meant it_   
_I'm not perfect, I got pride_

_— JoJo, “F*** Apologies”_

* * *

The Warbler palace — ahem, Dalton Academy — was your typical movie-looking boarding school, complete with sweeping architecture and shining floors and boys in blue and red blazers.

It seemed like Santana had been designated the point person for interacting with their new nemesis. Kurt was useless against Sebastian’s remarks, Blaine weirdly had a soft spot for the guy who nearly blinded him, Rachel would probably cry if Sebastian said something mean, Brit was too nice (and Santana did not want her pureness marred by the apparent evil of this guy), Finn was a pasty doughman against everyone (except that time when he had a shovefest with Jesse St. James over Rachel), Puck would simply resort to violence, Artie was literally in a wheelchair, and the rest of them Santana didn’t even consider.

Except maybe Quinn. Santana felt that her old cheer captain could do some damage without batting an eye.

But regardless, she felt almost proud to be heading the battle against the Warblers and their CW-villain-looking captain. It gave her some purpose. It had been a while since she could use her Lima Heights sass and threats against someone in full force.

She forcefully swung open the door to the Warbler’s practice room, striding in with a big smile.

“Santana,” Sebastian said, hopping off the desk. “What’re you doing here? Come to lose another duel?”

“No, though I didn’t lose that time. You did. I’m here to let you know that we’ll be suing your ass, unless you listen to me very carefully.”

He scoffed. “You have no grounds.”

“Sure I do. I got you on tape admitting that you put rock salt in Blaine’s slushie and intentionally meant him harm. So get your big boy pants on and get ready to do whatever it is I say.”

The Warblers began to whisper amongst themselves. “You have zero proof of that,” Sebastian said.

“Wrong.” Santana pulled a tiny recorder out of her bra. “Sound familiar?”

_“Now tell me the truth, what did you put in that slushie?”_

_“Rock salt.”_

There was silence in the room as the last echoes of Sebastian’s recorded voice faded.

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s illegal to record someone without their explicit permission, so you can’t use that in court.”

“How do you know?”

“My mother’s a lawyer.”

“Fine, maybe we won’t sue you. But I bet this is enough to get you expelled from Dalton and your Warblers banned from competing.”

“Leave the Warblers out of this,” he said. “In fact, you all can go. I’ll handle this. It’s between Miss Lima Heights and me.”

“See ya,” Santana said sweetly, as they filed out of the room. “Lock the door behind you, would you?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want you to see me make a boy cry.”

Sebastian glared at her.

She glared back.

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I want you to back to hell off. Stay away from Kurt, Blaine, and the rest of the New Directions.”

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Do I have to stay away from you too?”

“What’s _wrong_ with you? Plus, aren’t you gay?”

He shrugged. “I’m attracted to attractive people. Not really about the labels. Plus, I know how much you wanted to kiss me after we finished singing last time.”

“You must be dreaming.”

“Maybe. But I’m just speaking the truth. Are you lesbian?”

“I don’t know. I’ve slept with both guys and girls.”

He smiled. “Would you like another duel?”

“Would it… give you satisfaction?” she asked pointedly.

“Sure.”

He sat down at the piano. “Come,” he beckoned.

 _“Saw it in your eyes, when you said goodbye_  
 _you didn't even try, so this time I don't care,”_ he sang.

 _“And honestly I was just about to pick up the phone_  
 _and then I realized that I didn't do nothing wrong_  
 _you would even tell two lies to prove that you were right_  
 _usually I'd go on and take the blame but not this time, not this time,”_ she continued, leaning against the piano.

And so it went, her voice layering over his, her eyes watching as his fingers flew across the piano, It was a song with so much pride and anger and hurt, something that both of them felt in abundance.

As the song finished, he stood up suddenly and pressed her against the side of the piano. “I was better,” she whispered.

“You weren’t even close,” he breathed. This time, he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his lips crashed into hers. She found herself tilting her head up, her mouth automatically opening in response to his. Who knew that annoying smirk of his hid such soft lips?

She moaned softly as he pressed against her even harder, and she felt his lips curl up into a smile.

“Good thing I asked them to lock the door,” she murmured.

His hands traced up her thigh, pushing up her dress (red this time, but still as tight as it had been the last time they sang together). She arched into his touch, then ground her hips purposefully against the growing bulge in his pants and was rewarded with a groan escaping from the back of his throat.

“Do you have any stipulations against doing it in your rival school’s choir room?” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Not at all,” she smirked.

He whipped out a condom, one thing led to another, and let’s just say they did some very interesting things on that piano that led Sebastian to smirk every time he saw the piano for the next week.

They moved like they had in song, in dance – in tandem, in harmony, and when they came, it was together.

* * *

Santana straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and pulled a mirror out of her bag to fix her lip gloss.

“Well, did that give you proper… satisfaction?” she purred.

Sebastian grinned. “Very much so. What are you going to tell your friends?”

“That I scared you into leaving us alone in return for us not suing the pants off you and your little friends. Oh, and be at the auditorium tomorrow at noon. Kurt says “he has a lesson” for you blazer bitchlets, so play nice.”

“Fine.”

She unlocked the door and sashayed out, leaving Dalton Academy to wonder just who this mysterious girl was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought Santana x Sebastian had more chemistry than anyone on the show. This takes it into a whole AU direction (and I had a *ton* of fun writing both their sassiness). Enjoy!


	4. daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warblers face the New Directions again; Santana comes to a realization about Britney.

**chapter 3: daybreak**

_Now we're slipping near the edge_   
_Holding something we don't need_   
_Oh, this delusion in our heads_   
_Is gonna bring us to our knees_

_— James Bay, “Let It Go”_

* * *

Santana was just coming off the afterglow when she realized.

_She had forgotten all about Brit._

How the hell did she just forget about her sweet, innocent girlfriend, whom she loved, in the midst of hooking up with her declared enemy?

Oh, shit. She was in some deep trouble.

* * *

“Is whatever this is going to take long? I can’t stand the stench of public schools,” Sebastian said as he pushed the curtains to the auditorium stage open.

Of course he wouldn’t go through the door like a regular person.

“It won’t take long, and all you have to do is sit and listen,” Quinn said, eyeing him coldly.

They sat, Sebastian giving a quick nod of acknowledgment to Santana. Or at least she assumed it was for her.

“We’re not doing Michael for regionals,” Artie started off.

“Didn’t think you’d give up that easily,” Sebastian cut in.

“We’re tired of the fighting and backstabbing. We’re show choirs — we’re supposed to be supportive,” said Kurt.

Sebastian watched incredulously as this group of badly dressed public schoolers started singing Michael. Granted, their outfits and dancing desperately needed a makeover, but they had something. Heart.

He could feel his fellow Warblers thinking the same thoughts, as their facial expressions shifted from mocking, to interested, to bopping their heads along with the beat.

He kept his eyes on Santana, who he’d never really seen in her cheer uniform before. It suited her. And the other girl in the cheer uniform? The blonde one who matched her every step? That had to be her girlfriend.

_Some girlfriend,_ Sebastian thought. _Santana didn’t even think twice before hooking up with me._

He didn’t notice that Santana wasn’t able to meet Britney’s eyes at all the whole song.

Sebastian was too busy thinking that he almost didn’t notice Trent get up and get pulled on stage by the short girl with the big nose and big voice.

_Goddammit, Trent, why do you have to ruin everything?_ he thought.

One by one, the Warblers started to get up and join the New Directions on stage. Sebastian protested — he wouldn’t be caught _dead_ participating in this lame-ass rendition of a great song — but for once in their lives, the Warbles ignored him.

When the song finally finished, he gave his most sarcastic slow clap. “Very moving,” he spat out.

He didn’t miss Santana’s glare. Apparently, showing up to this pitiful performance was not enough to be considered “playing nice.”

“C’mon, Sebastian. Give it up!” Jake said.

Sebastian wanted to punch him in his stupid face. How dare he step on Sebastian’s authority?

“That is exactly the kind of attitude that lost us Regionals last year,” he growled, pointing his finger accusingly at Jake.

Santana stepped forward, looking at Sebastian meaningfully. “I could call the cops, or your headmaster, and get you kicked out of school or even arrested for assaulting Blaine with that slushie.”

Ha. That would mean more if they hadn’t had their little… chat earlier. He smirked. “All of this would just be awfully terrifying if you had any proof whatsoever,” he grinned, staring down Santana.

“Oh. You mean like… you admitting to it?” she said cheerfully, pulling the little tape recorder out of her pocket just like she had earlier.

The Warblers looked confused. Sebastian ignored them.

“But you know what? It just wouldn’t be as fun winning Regionals without seeing you suffer the agony of defeat,” Kurt said, pulling the recorder out of Santana’s hand and throwing it to Sebastian.

“At least all your teammates now know exactly what kinda guy you are,” Santana said. _I won this one,_ her eyes said.

Sebastian got up and stormed out of the auditorium, not even bothering to wait for his teammates. They could find their own ride home; he was taking his Tesla alone.

* * *

“San, are you mad at me?” Britney asked, interlacing her fingers with her girlfriend’s.

“Wha — no, of course not! I could never be mad at you, Brit,” Santana said, smiling.

“Well, it seems like it. Even Mr. Tubbington says so,” Brit replied, scooping her cat into her arms.

“Mr. Tubbington can go suck it. Wanna cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Sure!”

They snuggled on Britney’s bed and put on some movie that she knew Britney loved, all the while feeling guilt crawl all over her skin.

_I fucked Sebastian and I didn’t even think about you. I hate myself a little. You’re too good for me._

“I have to pee,” Santana said, standing up. “Don’t pause the movie; I think I got my period and I’ll be a while.”

She spent the next 10 minutes crying softly in Brit’s bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Santana *does* care deeply about Brit, but I can also see her getting lost in the moment. Also, of course Sebastian has a Tesla (maybe a little ahead of his time, but whatever).


	5. ain't about the reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana confesses her guilt to Sebastian.

**ain’t about the reputation**   
_You wanted me to go and put my hands on you_   
_Just to show you I love you_   
_You know I can't jeopardize both our reputations_   
_Despite what you say_   
_Despite what you choose to do with yourself this summer_   
_You're actin' out, you know you love to see me down_

_— Drake ft. Michael Jackson, “Don’t Matter to Me”_

* * *

“I feel like crap about myself,” she told him.

They were back in the choir room. Honestly, Santana didn’t know why she kept coming here. She had better things to do than to complain to her sworn enemy, but bitch to bitch, she felt like he got it.

Plus, she could unleash her snark on him at any time, and get some worthy snarkiness back. No one else could do that without crying or producing something so pitiful, it was laughable.

“Why, Shaqueera?”

She smacked him. “It’s your fault, you know.”

“The only fault I have is that I’m perfect,” he returned, only half-jokingly.

“Far from it. Anyway, it’s your fault that I cheated on Britney. You seduced me.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Your mouth was on mine! I couldn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t push me away.”

“Okay, fine. I forgot all about Britney. But now I feel terrible. How do I tell her that I cheated on her?”

“...don’t?”

“I can’t lie to Brit. We’ve always told each other everything.”

“Then… tell her?”

“Jesus, you’re so helpful.”

“Hey! I’m just trying to say what you want to hear.”

“No, stop that. Say what you think. You don’t have a problem with it anytime else.”

“Why are you coming to me for advice, Santana?” he asked instead, curiously.

She sighed. “I felt… I felt like you’d understand. And I can’t _tell_ my friends that I slept with the enemy! Plus, they think I’m a lesbian. I am a lesbian. God, I don’t even know.”

Sebastian looked at her. _Really_ looked at her, his green eyes more serious than she’d ever seen them before. There was no trace of his signature smirk on his face as he said, “Santana, things don’t always have to be so black and white. Feel what you feel — it’s okay. Just saying that you like girls was a huge step in the right direction, because it meant that you were allowing your full self to be shown. And if your friends are really your friends, they’ll love you no matter if you like girls, boys, aliens, whatever.”

She laughed a little at this.

Sebastian continued, “But as for telling Britney, as much as it’ll hurt her, I think you should tell her. Secrets eat you up inside. I would know.”

Santana wiped a tear away and met his gaze. “What secret were you keeping?”

“I…” Sebastian scrubbed his face wearily. “I caught my dad cheating with my nanny when I was younger. He made me promise not to tell my mom because it would just hurt her, but it really sucked keeping it inside. Especially for a little kid. And I don’t think my mom ever really forgave me for it.”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. Also,” she grinned briefly, “Sebastian is a mouthful. Can I call you Seb?”

“Do you plan on using my name often?” he grinned in return, though the heaviness of his confession still shone in his eyes.

“You never know.”

“Okay, San,” he replied, smiling cheekily.

“Hmmph,” was all she said.

They sat in silence for a bit. “But no one can know about us,” she said. “Even if it was a one-time thing.”

“If that’s what you want.”

She stood to leave, then turned as her hand was on the door. “Thank you… for your honest advice. And for sharing your story with me. You didn’t have to.”

As she walked out, she thought she heard him murmur, “You’re the only person I’ve told it to,” but she brushed it off. She probably was just imagining things.


	6. can't help myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana tells Britney (and keeps seeing Sebastian, despite herself).

**can't help myself**

_ No masters or kings when the ritual begins  
_ _ There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin _

_ — “Take Me to Church,” Hozier _

* * *

Lying to Brit felt like kicking a puppy. It was eating at Santana alive, clawing at her insides and burning her heart like acid. Every time she looked into Brit’s wide, trusting blue eyes, she felt herself die a little more inside.

_ Secrets eat you up inside. _

Sebastian’s words echoed in her head. She couldn’t shake his advice. She couldn’t shake  _ him. _

It was so stupid. She loved Britney. She was trying  _ not  _ to be a terrible person, for once in her life, trying not to be so selfish and self-absorbed and use bitchiness as front of all the shittiness she had in her life, but this equally bitchy yet somehow gorgeous and empathetic meerkat had crawled his way under her skin.

She was gay, though, wasn’t she?

Santana had fought so hard to accept her feelings, had loved Britney quietly, had faced her abuela’s wrath and her dad’s disappointment and her mom’s quiet understanding. She had faced the losers at McKinley calling her names and the creepy guys who wanted a threesome.

And was that all for  _ nothing _ ?

“Hi,” a soft voice interrupted. Britney, sweet angel.

“Hey Brit,” Santana said, smiling at her girlfriend.

“Are you okay?” Britney’s brow was furrowed, like Santana was a confusing homework problem. 

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay. But you seem really sad so I wanted to make sure.”

_ God, I don’t deserve her,  _ Santana thought and knew she couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Actually—” she blurted, as Brit reached to take her hand. She steeled herself and calmed her voice. “Actually, I have something to tell you.”

* * *

It didn’t go as badly as she thought it would. She had cried, she had begged forgiveness, and Britney just… gave it.

“I know you love me, San, and people make mistakes. Even Lord Tubbington does,” Britney had said.

But Santana couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

So here she was, parked in front of Dalton  _ again _ , wondering why in the world she kept coming back to this place. She strode up the familiar steps, went up to Sebastian’s dorm (it was evening, he  _ had  _ to be there), knocked — all without really thinking it through.

He answered, shirtless and with a toothbrush in hand. She eyed the toothbrush, giving him a questioning look.

He eyed  _ her _ , giving her the same look.

There was a beat of silence, then Santana spoke first. “Are you… getting ready for bed?” She looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was barely 9pm.

“I had a long day,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked  _ different _ like this, in navy pajama bottoms (silk, of course) and freshly washed hair. He appeared to also have a very extensive skincare routine (she wasn't surprised) because his skin was glowing.

“Me too,” she sighed, and pushed the door wider, walking into his room.

“Hey, it’s not open invite,” he complained half-heartedly.

She ignored him and sat on the bed, her red Cheerios skirt splaying out on the navy duvet.  _ Jesus, is everything he owns navy?  _ she wondered. “I told Britney,” she said without preamble.

Sebastian stops brushing for a moment to stare at her. “And?” he asked, his mouth full of toothpaste foam.

“And she  _ forgave _ me. She said people make mistakes, that she understands.”

“So what’s the problem?” He had rinsed and spit while she was talking, and sat down next to her, smelling like mint.

“I feel like absolute shit. I mean, what would  _ you  _ do if your boyfriend cheated on you? I’d go batshit crazy and break everything she fucking owned if someone cheated on  _ me. _ ”

He turned a little to look at her. “Would you? I think you’d say the same thing to Britney if the tables were turned.”

Santana sighed a little. He was right; she could never be  _ that  _ mad or destructive toward Brit. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re a little homewrecker, aren’t you.”

Sebastian’s green eyes bore into hers. “I am not.”

“You  _ literally tried to break Blaine and Kurt apart for ages. _ ”

He put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, that was… okay. Fine. But I didn’t mean to do the same to you and Britney.”

She sighed again, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do, Seb,” she admitted, feeling defeated. It was so unlike her, to let go of her steely exterior and admit weakness. She sensed Sebastian knew it too, because he tensed for a moment before relaxing.

“Forgive yourself as much as Britney has,” he said softly.

It was hard to do that when all she wanted to do was lift her head up and kiss him so deeply they both forgot their names, but she nodded instead and sat up. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. Now, I’m going to bed. So unless you’re gonna get in bed with me, can you please go?” he smirked, but she knew he was teasing.

“Yes, you little princess. Go get your beauty sleep.” She smiled (genuinely, despite herself) and walked out, shutting the door softly behind her.

Sebastian fell asleep dreaming of tan legs and short red skirts, of high ponytails and bright brown eyes.


	7. listen to your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana contemplates breaking up with Britney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit scene at the end of this, so skip ahead after the 1st page break if you don't want to read!

**listen to your heart**

_Listen to your heart when he's calling for you  
_ _Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_

_— “Listen to Your Heart,” Rockette_

* * *

It had been twenty hours and fourteen days since she’d left Dalton. Santana was never one to count time so precisely, but she hated that she missed Sebastian. Hated it hated it hated it.

Thoughts of him crept up on her — in bed with Britney, wishing her clear blue eyes were his green ones instead, feeling Britney’s fingers and tongue on her but feeling like they couldn’t do the same justice that Sebastian could. Or in school, during glee club, wishing she had someone to snark with about their crazy antics and personal dramas. He was like the guy version of her, someone who seemed to know and understand her even without spending that much time with her.

Because as much as she loved Britney — gentle, sweet, loving, kind, trusting Britney — sometimes she felt like Brit would never truly _get_ her. Santana was all sharp edges and cutting remarks; Britney was balm to anyone’s wound. It was what made them _perfect_ , Santana had thought, but now she thought that she was too much fire and Brit was too much water and they were only creating smoke instead of something beautiful.

But Sebastian. He was a fire unto himself, and together they burned brighter than anything she’d ever seen.

So she swallowed her tears and held Britney’s hand and listened to her heart and broke up with the beautiful girl who she thought she’d marry one day.

And Britney cried too, but she understood like she always did. “I just want you to be happy, San,” she said. “And if it isn’t with me, that’s okay.”

“Can we still be friends? I can’t lose you as a friend, Brit,” Santana said, eyes welling up despite herself. Knowing it was selfish but that it was a question she had to ask.

Britney answered with a hug, one of Santana’s favorite things from her now-ex-girlfriend, and a kiss to her cheek. “Go be with the Warbler King,” Britney whispered, and Santana jumped a little. “Make him a better person.”

* * *

Sometimes, Santana wondered just what went through Britney’s head. She smiled a little as she drove the now-familiar route to Dalton, parking her car in the same spot she always parked in, strode up the familiar steps, and found herself in front of Sebastian’s door one more time.

She knocked — once, twice — he was dressed this time in chinos and a soft shirt (did this guy not own jeans?) and didn’t have time to say anything before her lips were on his and she pushed them into his room, slamming the door behind her.

Her body knew the room from the last time she was here, and she backed them both onto his bed, forcing him to sit and straddling him, kicking off her shoes (thank you, tennis shoes) in the process. "Brit?" he managed, as she broke away to pull off his shirt.

"We broke up," she answered shortly, before she pulled off her tight Cheerios top and his attention focused in on her.

"I always wondered if you wore a bra under that," he smirked. "Now I know." He pulled her back in and laid wet, heavy kisses on her neck before moving down to her pert breasts, taking one hard nipple in his mouth and pinching the other, rolling it expertly. She threw her head back with a moan. This was all fire and heat, whereas sex with Britney had been gentle and loving.

She ground her hips against his, wishing he had jeans on because the roughness of the material would've felt amazing against the thin fabric of the spandex under her skirt, but she tabled that thought for later as a low groan escaped his mouth.

He pulled on her ponytail a bit as he kissed his way back up her neck, sucking at a particularly sensitive spot. "Stand up," he ordered.

She did as he said.

"Take off your skirt."

She took off the skirt and its attaching spandex and met his gaze squarely, noting with satisfaction that he swallowed hard before speaking again.

"Come here and put your leg up on my shoulder."

He was tall, even when sitting, but he knew her cheerleader flexibility would come in hand. And they both were grateful for that as he began to lick her folds, her hands threading through his hair and almost pulling it out of his head as she whimpered. He grabbed onto her waist with one hand as he inserted a finger slowly into her, relishing the way she tightened automatically. "God, you're so wet," he murmured as he inserted another and began to speed up.

"Holy shit," she cried out. "Make me cum, Seb."

The name had never sounded so good coming from anyone's lips, and he sped up even more as she tightened around his fingers and screamed out. He slowed his pace and pulled his fingers out, licking them slowly as she breathed heavily. She lowered her leg and pulled his pants off, almost impatiently.

As she knelt down, he looked at her. "You don't have to if —"

"Shut up," was all Santana said before her lips covered his already-hard cock. She wasn't going to lie — she _liked_ this, liked that it gave her control over men, liked that she could make them unravel so quickly right before her eyes. And Sebastian sure was unraveling. Now it was his turn to grab her hair, wrapping his fingers around her smooth ponytail, cradling her neck. "God, San," he gasped.

She could taste the precum when he pulled her back. "Bed. Now." She laid down as he went to get a condom, watching lasciviously as he slid it on. He teased her, rubbing his dick slowly over her clit, and she nearly growled in frustration.

"Stop playing!"

He smirked. "Make me."

She pushed him and somehow flipped him onto his back, despite her much-smaller size, and straddled him once more. "I'll show you," she said, before using her hand to guide his cock into her and riding him like he'd never been ridden before.

His eyes followed hers, watched as she threw her head back in ecstasy. He was getting close; he knew she was. He started to move his hips up as well, meeting hers. "Cum for me, baby," he said, and while Santana never really did like being told what to do, she did.

He slowed down to let her ride out her orgasm, then sat up and picked her up, moving them to the wall. While he loved the view from the bottom, he loved control too and now, it was his turn.

And so he fucked her against the wall, so hard he thought the entire academy could hear his thrusts (and if they couldn't, they could surely hear Santana's screams), and when they came again, they came together.

They collapsed on his bed, sweaty and spent, and he smirked at her. "Santana Lopez, were you _using_ me?"

She swatted him, her brown eyes naked with emotion. "Sebastian Smythe... believe it or not, I actually missed your smug meerkat face." She turned away from him after that confession, but he pulled her in close and nuzzled his nose into her hair.

"I missed you too," he said softly.


	8. some things were never meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian threatens New Directions and threatens his budding relationship with Santana in the process.

**some things were never meant to be**

_Now, it's like we're scared of getting good_   
_'Cause we know the truth is that we could_   
_Yeah, we know that we might actually work_   
_And the truth is that we could_

_— “Worst in Me,” Julia Michaels_ **  
**

* * *

Santana woke with her head on a decided muscled chest and nearly jolted out of bed at the unfamiliar feeling. She’d only ever stayed at Brit’s, and had gotten used to the other girl’s lean body with its surprisingly soft curves. Taking a deep breath, she slowly blinked her eyes open as the previous day’s events rushed back into her head.

_ Britney giving her blessing, like the angel she was. _

_ Her making her way to Sebastian’s dorm. _

_ Hot kisses trailing down her neck, her spine, every part of her body. _

_ Their clothes scattered haphazardly across his floor. _

_ His dorm-mate shouting, “Hey! I can HEAR you guys!” in the middle of their second round and them both shouting, “You jealous?” at the same time. _

Smiling lazily at that memory, Santana stretched a little and felt Sebastian groan a little, as if he wanted to avoid anything even resembling waking up and getting out of bed. It appears he  _ was _ waking up though, and he rolled them over so they were spooning. He nuzzled her neck softly, his breath warm in her ear as he murmured, “Good morning.”

Santana didn’t want to look at her phone — her mama had probably sent her twenty texts and two voicemails, at least — so she scooted closer to him and whispered, “Morning.”

He groaned again, this time at the feeling of her hips grinding into him. “When does that public school of yours start?” he asked, a little too innocently to be real.

“8:30. When does that  _ private school of yours  _ start?” she asked in the same tone.

“9. You’re going to come first before you go first, if you know what I mean,” he answered, and Santana  _ knew _ he was smirking even without seeing his face.

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, moving her hips more intentionally this time.

“Challenge accepted.” And with that Sebastian flipped them once again so he was hovering above her, supporting himself on his palms as he kissed her deeply.

* * *

Santana felt like she was floating on air the whole day. She couldn’t keep a dumb dopey smile off her face, no matter how hard she tried. And it was obvious too — she could literally  _ hear _ the Glee club whispering (again, literally) behind her back.

“Hey!” she snapped, narrowing her eyes and spinning around to glare at Berry, Lady Hummel, and Blaine in the back row. “You can get your nose outta my business before I go all Lima Heights on  _ you _ .”

The three of them had the grace to look ashamed.

Santana turned back around, a self-satisfied smirk back on her face. Much better.

* * *

Something else wiped the lovestruck smile off her face, though.

She’d gotten home in time to change into a new outfit (thank god) and shower (much needed), and she was glad for the bodycon dress she’d chosen as she stalked into the Lima Bean.

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Sebastian?” she snarled, forgetting for a moment that she was in a very public place.

He looked up at her innocently, his hair combed neatly on his head. She remembered running her fingers through it earlier this morning, yanking it a little as she came, Santana rather liked it in its un-gelled state, but that was a thought for another time.

“What did I do this time?”

Santana wanted to slap the smirk off his face. “You know what you did.”

* * *

**_5 minutes earlier_ **

_ “Well well well. If it isn’t a young Barbara Streisand and an old Betty White. Where is gay Cyclops? Still tryna stumble his way in?” Sebastian feigned looking around, as if Blaine  _ **_were_ ** _ to walk in any second.” _

_ “We can’t come here anymore!” Kurt said, exasperated. _

Drama queen,  _ Sebastian thought, but said instead, “Rachel, I have brought an engagement gift for you.” He handed her a manila envelope and smirked. The deluded girl actually  _ **_smiled_ ** _ at him, as if  _ **_he’d actually get her a goddamn gift._ ** She is so full of herself, _ he thought, but couldn’t stop his smirk from spreading as she opened it, Kurt peering curiously over her shoulder. _

_ Wait for it.... _

_ “Oh oh oh!” she shrieked, her hand automatically reaching to cover Finn’s dick. “This is obviously photoshopped! His  _ **_thing_ ** _ is not that small or round!” _

_ “And he could never fit into those pumps,” Kurt added. _

_ Sebastian ignored their comments. “Just think. From now until eternity,  _ **_every time_ ** _ someone Googles ‘Finn Hudson,’ they’ll be treated to  _ **_that._ ** _ And dozens just like it. That’s the beauty of the internet. It stays with us forever.” _

_ “What do you want, Sebastian?” Rachel spat, not even able to meet his eyes. (She was still staring at the picture, a little horrified, but Sebastian would bet good money that she was a little into it too.) _

_ “I want a guaranteed Regionals win, so I want YOU to drop out.” He smiled brightly. _

_ “But that is show choir terrorism.” She shook her head in disbelief. _

_ “You have 24 hours to drop out, Rachel. Or I press the upload button.” And with that, he strutted over to the counter to buy himself a much-deserved oat milk latte. _

* * *

“How did you hear about it so fast?” Sebastian asked instead.

“I was on my way here to get coffee because thanks to  _ someone _ , I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I was literally at the door when you confronted them.” She glared at him accusingly.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining about the lack of sleep this morning.”

“Stop changing the subject! Why the hell would you turn around and threaten my friends?”

“Hey. Just because you used me for sex doesn’t mean that I owe you anything. In fact, I think that means  _ you _ owe  _ me _ something.”

“Wow, you’re sick. I didn’t hear  _ you  _ complaining. Plus, it’s so sad that you’re threatened by a five foot two girl with a nasally voice and a nose bigger than her ego.”

“I’m not  _ threatened  _ by her —”

“Right, that’s why you blackmailed her.”

“I just want to make sure the Warblers win, goddammit!” he slammed his fist into the table, making his coffee shake.

Santana just stared at him. “What’s wrong with you.” It wasn’t a question.

He sighed, looking around warily. “I just… I can’t afford for us to lose, Santana. My reputation’s on the line.”

“So  _ get better.  _ You guys are damn  _ good  _ already _.  _ You can win without Berry being out of the picture.”

“I know. But I swear the judges have some sort of fetish for her or something; you never know what she’s going to pull out.”

Santana huffed a little, exasperated. “Look, why is winning so important? I know you like to win and that the Warblers put a ton of stock in it, but why is it so important to  _ you _ ?”

“I…” Sebastian looked uncertain and felt more vulnerable than he’d like to in the middle of this very public coffee shop. “Hunter and I made a deal. If I didn’t take us to Regionals and win, then he gets to be captain of the Warblers.”

Santana understood this. She understood better than perhaps anyone the feeling of your captainship riding on the line. Sue had threatened the same thing multiple times — it’s why she was so effective as a coach. If you were constantly living in fear of being replaced, you did whatever it takes to win. Her brown eyes softened as she looked at Sebastian, his face still open and devoid of its signature smirk.

She reached out to hold his hand under the table. “I get it,” she said softly, wishing she could hug and kiss him right here, right now. “I really do. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“I can’t fix this, San,” he said.

“We’ll fix it together,” she said.

* * *

But it turned out so much worse than either of them had expected. Karofsky had tried to commit suicide and it turns out, it may have largely been Sebastian’s fault.

Sebastian apologized to the New Directions, promised to change, and said he had turned a new leaf. He looked appropriately contrite but not shaken, but Santana knew better.

That’s why she wasn’t surprised to see a text come in from him later that night:

_ Sebastian: hey _

_ Santana: whats up _

_ Sebastian: can you come over? I kinda need to talk _

_ Santana: sure ill be there soon. ru ok? _

_ Sebastian: no. but i will be. _

She was worried about him and that worry plagued her as she drove over to Dalton. She wondered briefly if it was selfish to be more worried about Seb than Karofsky. They were so alike — two bitches that reveled in their sass, in feeling powerful, in putting people down with well-placed insults. But it was all fun and games until someone tried to kill themselves because of what you said.

He opened the door before she even had to knock. With his rumpled hair, puffy eyes, and loose grey sweatpants, he looked like a mess. And he looked like he’d definitely been crying.

Santana stepped in and closed the door, just like she had a day before, and pulled him into a hug, her face pressed against his chest. He didn’t say anything, just rested his chin on her head, and she could feel that he was crying again.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I’m here.”

They sat down on the bed, Sebastian dangling his long legs over the edge and Santana curling her tan ones underneath her, playing with the soft hem of her pajama shorts.

“I never realized that my words could have that much impact on someone,” he said. “I… I didn’t know he wasn’t  _ out  _ yet; I thought he was just another badly dressed guy trying to hit on me.”

“It’s not your fault, Seb.”

“But it is!” he exclaimed, angry. “I was an  _ asshole,  _ and the guy tried to  _ kill himself. _ ”

She placed her small hand over his and stroked it with her thumb, soothing him. “What you did wasn’t right. We’re quick to say these things; we’re smart like that—” she smiled at him a little, “— but words can really hurt someone. The New Directions, as annoying as they are sometimes, have really shown me that. I’m trying to be better, and it’s really hard, honestly, but the important part is that you try. And I think you are.”

He wrapped his fingers around hers, interlacing them and seeking solace from her touch. “Thanks, San. I needed that. I just felt so guilty, and then I felt guilty for even feeling guilty because Karofsky is literally in the hospital…”

“Guilt is human. It’s not wrong to feel any emotions.”

They sat like that for a long time, hands clutching each other like they were drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not story-related, Naya Rivera has been missing and my thoughts are with her and her family during this time <3


	9. glad you came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Directions and the Warblers go head to head at Regionals.

**glad you came**

_My universe will never be the same  
_ _I’m glad you came_

_— The Wanted, “Glad You Came”_

* * *

He gave his familiar head nod to her as the beat dropped, and she grinned. Blaine stood up with a _hell yeah_ look on his face, and Santana knew that no matter how many times he said he didn’t care about Sebastian or the Warblers, he still had a little Dalton blue in his heart.

She got up too — _it was a catchy song!_ — and swayed along to the music, pretending not to notice Sebastian’s knowing smirk as he sang, “ _You look well on me._ ”

If Sebastian didn’t know better, he would say Santana was almost smiling… _proudly_ at him as she swayed in the audience, her black skirt billowing around her and her hair loose from its usual tight ponytail.

The lights went out and his heart felt full. His breathing was heavy, and for once in his life, he felt part of something bigger than himself.

* * *

Sebastian stood up when Santana started rapping. _Damn, didn’t see that coming,_ he thought proudly.

Then _Blaine_ started rapping, and Sebastian was too happy to even hide his smile anymore. Here were his two favorite people in the New Directions (not that that was saying much — even though he promised to be less of an asshole, it didn’t mean he _liked_ all of them), finally getting some much-deserved stage time.

It was still kinda of the Rachel Berry show, but he was glad Santana and Blaine had their time to shine.

He was so caught up in the music that when the song ended and everyone was cheering wildly, he was still grinning like an idiot.

 _“You know I dream in color  
_ _and do the things I want,”_

Santana sang, meeting Sebastian’s gaze.

 _Oh, I sure do,_ he thought, remembering quite literally all the moments they had, the blurred nights and the hazy mornings, of kissing every inch of her perfect caramel skin and exploring all the ways he could make her moan. Of talking about their dreams together — both the ones they had at night, spoken in the soft grey hours of the morning, and the ones they had for the future, whispered while they were wrapped in each other, tired out from sex and school and life.

Santana had always been the most vibrant person he knew, the most determined and self-assured (other than himself). And he had seen it from the moment he had sang, “Annie are you okay?” and she had responded with a voice that deserved to be on a Top 100 chart.

This girl was _his_ , and he was _hers,_ and damn, he never thought he’d be this happy but here he was.

* * *

As Sebastian shook Artie’s hand, he couldn’t begrudge the New Directions for a trophy well-won. It seemed like tragedy had brought them all together, and made them all better for it.

Besides, he had a great time “congratulating” Santana later in his dorm room. Winning had made her extra _extra_ sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last chapters in Lima before we fast-forward to NYC (I much prefer the NYC part, so I'm really excited for y'all).


	10. i'll never be the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Santana celebrate post-Regionals.

**I'll never be the same**

_Just like nicotine, rushin' me, touching me  
_ _Suddenly, I'm a fiend and you're all I need_

_— “Never Be the Same,” Camilla Cabello_

* * *

Santana still felt high off their win as she stumbled into her room at the end of the day — Sebastian’s room, to be clear. It seemed like he had no hard feelings, despite his earlier insistence, which troubled her a little, but she decided to table that for after sex. It seemed like an appropriate after-sex conversation.

So she bookmarked it in her mind, right between “get a renewed birth control prescription” and “figure out what to wear for graduation.” Then she turned her mind to the present matter, which was Sebastian kissing his way down her neck and struggling with her god-awful black dress.

She almost burst out laughing as he growled in frustration but figured it wouldn’t be great for his ego. Oh, who gave a fuck. She laughed anyway.

He glared at her, albeit without heat. “I _hate_ this dress,” he said, a little petulantly.

Santana rolled her eyes. “I hate it too. Rachel picks the costumes _every fucking year_ and she has the fashion sense of a troll.”

“Damn right.” Giving up, he literally _rips_ the zipper off the dress (the dress is _far_ too monstrous and sturdy to rip altogether with his bare hands, although he’d very much like to) and the rest of the dress soon follows.

“Thank you for saving me from that _evil_ dress.” Santana smirked and batted her eyelashes. “Now let me say ‘thank you’ again properly…” It was her turn to trail kisses down his chest and torso, popping the buttons on his white collared shirt as she did so.

(She gave him _a look_ when he opened his mouth to say something, and he shut it again, letting her ruin his Armani shirt. It was worth it.)

When she got to her destination, she knelt and stroked his dick a few times teasingly before unbuckling his pants and pulling it out. As her mouth closed over his length, he let out a loud groan and Santana smirked again despite herself. The Warblers may have lost Regionals, but she was sure that this was a very good consolation prize their captain was getting.

Another groan, more akin to a growl, escaped Sebastian as she sped up, going deeper until he hit the back of her throat. His fingers laced into her hair as she moved, and he thought (a little incoherently) that he must be the luckiest man in Warbler history right now (he didn't think about the rumors that Blaine was quite good at this kind of thing).

"Baby..." he pulled her back a little, before he could cum in her mouth. She deserved some fun too.

And so he pushed her back on the bed, kissing her folds and trailing a teasing tongue over them. He swiped his tongue across, almost languidly, a few times, purposefully missing her clit, and she made a half-whimper, half-frustrated noise. "Something wrong?" he joked, his breath washing over her clit deliciously, and she writhes a little under him.

"You're driving me goddamn crazy," she bit out.

"Hm, am I? You seem to like it."

"Stop. Fucking. Teasing. Me."

"As you wish," he said. "But you're going to cum so fucking hard."

And true to his word, he swirled his tongue around her in the way she needs, and inserted two fingers inside her simultaneously, pumping in a come-hither motion that curls her toes and has her clutching his soft sheets in vain. She squeezed him as she came (so fucking hard, like he said) and he drew his fingers out, licking them lasciviously while keeping eye contact the whole time.

"Condom, now." She was still shaking a little, but it doesn't stop her from being bossy. He loved it.

_And they fuck, a celebration and an apology and a conversation all in one. It's almost close to love-making, Santana thinks briefly, as he slows and pulls her into a long kiss. She shakes the thought off as she tells him to go harder, faster._

* * *

Afterward, she unbookmarked her thought.

"Are you okay, Seb?"

"Of course I'm okay. I'm happy for you."

"What about Hunter?"

Sebastian sighed and met her eyes, his green ones serious. "I realized something, when I was singing. I had a shitton of fun. I loved being the spotlight, loved the crowd, loved seeing _you_ in the crowd, loved that we were doing it in Karofsky's honor. And I don't have to be a captain for any of that. I love the Warblers, sure, but it's not my whole life. I just had to re-find the joy I had in it, before I got so focused on winning. Besides," he shrugged, "I have enough credits that I might be able to graduate early."

Santana wasn't surprised. Sebastian always had his patent smirk-slash-smile plastered on when he sang, but it was only when he was singing tonight that there was any real warmth behind it. And that he was a little smartie pants? Not surprising either.

"Early enough to graduate with me?" she wiggled her eyebrows, not quite sure what she meant by it, really, but things just came out of her mouth easier in the post-sex haze. Honestly, sometimes she forgot Sebastian was a year younger than her.

"Yeah, I've been looking at NYU's program and I might be able to get everything finalized early enough to apply."

Santana was quiet for a moment. They've come so far from that first time they sang Michael Jackson. It wasn't just the sex (though the sex was great). Somewhere along the way, they had started to _care_ about each other, started to have normal conversations that didn't always revolve around glee club or singing. They talked about life, their families, their past. Their present. The people who annoyed them and the people who inspired them.

But they rarely talked about their future.

For Santana, it was largely because she didn't quite know what to do with her future. She had great grades (take _that_ bitches, she thought to everyone who gave her a shocked look when the top five highest GPAs were announced), a future in cheerleading if she wanted, and parents who would support her (especially if she wanted to be a doctor like her dad or a nurse like her mom).

Santana could go to college, party, live a normal life, be hot, the usual. It would be easy. She could probably even snag scholarships to most places, based on her athleticism and her grades.

Yet... something felt missing. Like Sebastian, something _clicked_ when she got on stage. She felt part of something bigger than herself, as if she were part of the very universe, as if her emotions and voice were washing over every being on the planet. But she _did_ know that she didn't want to be lagging behind the prissy Rachels of life forever, not when her voice and talent were just as good, if not better.

There were two paths that she could go down, and she wasn't sure which one was correct. Santana went with her gut — it rarely led her astray — but this time, her gut was deeply confused. So she didn't talk about it.

For Sebastian, he was a planner. A meticulous planner from age five, when he would sit at his mother's side and watch her fill out her big paper planner. He planned his life, his day, his hours... every little detail. He could have it all — his parents had money, he had youth and good lucks and charm on his side. He _had_ it all — talent, brains, personality.

But he still felt like something was missing. The closest he could find to that _something_ had been the Warblers, had been singing in front of a crowd of thousands with his boys in the background, but then he fell into this thing with Santana and he knew.

He knew that this ornery, passionate, beautiful, sexy, witty, sometimes-bitchy girl was that _something_ he had been missing, as fucking corny as it was, and it scared the shit out of him.

So he didn't speak about the future, because he had it all planned out, and Santana had strutted all over his plans in her high-heeled black booties he loved so much.

Both were quiet for so long, lost in their thoughts. Finally, Sebastian kissed the tip of her nose, his signature smirk back on his face.

"Did my genius stun you into complete silence?"

She scoffed. "Sure, if that makes you feel good about yourself." She paused. "I was thinking of going to New York too, actually... not the school, but to try my hand at Broadway. Or acting. Or really... anything. I'm tired of being in Rachel's shadow, and I think I can accomplish something great. Or... I've been applying to colleges too, ones with cheer scholarships and nursing programs. It's weird. I don't know what I want, for the first time ever."

Here it was, all the things she hadn't said for awhile, decisions about her life she wanted to make on her own, but Sebastian threw a curveball with his whole _maybe-I'll-graduate-early_ thing.

He simply hmm-ed in response, his long lashes whispering over his cheeks as he blinked. "What makes you feel more alive?" he asked, simply.

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the time on stage when everything had become crystal clear.

_"The sun goes down_   
_The stars come out_   
_And all that counts_   
_Is here and now,"_

she sang softly, and opened her eyes to find Sebastian looking at her intently.

"I know," he said, his voice equally as soft, and ghosted a thumb over her cheek gently. "Do what makes you happy, Santana. There's no right or wrong. There's just here and now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch the lil Flash reference? ;)


	11. goodbyes never tasted so bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graduation is here. The New Directions go in new directions and so do Sebastian and Santana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P Naya Rivera - you will always be missed <3

**goodbyes never tasted so bittersweet**

_There's no way I can save you_   
_'Cause I need to be saved, too_   
_I'm no good at goodbyes_

_— “Goodbyes,” Post Malone_ **  
**

* * *

The hard plastic chair was the most uncomfortable thing  _ on the planet,  _ especially when you were hungover, sweaty, and had to sit in it for hours while the whole of McKinley High graduated. Santana was  _ not _ one for graduation ceremonies (why would she want to watch the entire school march up to get a piece of paper?), but her parents would’ve thrown a fit if they knew she wanted to skip.

Plus, she knew they were proud of her, and that meant something.

She caught Sebastian’s eye in the sea of parents and siblings. He was decidedly un-Sebastian-like in his attire, wearing a tank top and bright coral shorts. Dark sunglasses covered half his face, and he had a backwards baseball cap and flip flops on. In short, he looked like a bro, and she knew that was the best disguise of all. It made it all worth it, sitting in this god-awful chair in the god-awful heat in her white graduation dress, because he was here to watch her graduate.

And then their future would begin. They’d get out of this gossipy little town and make it big in New York. Santana was never one for envisioning the future with  _ some guy _ , but Sebastian wasn’t just some guy.

It’s funny how a single song and a few months can change your life.

As she heard her name —  _ finally, and they weren’t even halfway done with the alphabet — _ and stood, sashaying her way up to the stage, she took a deep breath and smiled for the camera she knew her parents were aiming at her.

_ This is just the beginning. _

* * *

Of course, life never does go according to plan. In fact, it very rarely does. It always seems like a cruel joke — the more you plan something, the more likely it is to go wrong.

And that’s why Santana was devastated but ironically, not surprised, when Sebastian took her hand and led her into his room for the final time, but patted the bed next to him as he sat, instead of kissing her.

She simply looked at him (he’d changed back into prep school clothes, but she could see the slight hint of sunburn on his nose) and raised an eyebrow.

“Santana, I —”

“You’re not coming to New York with me, are you?”

He looked surprised, as if she were the one delivering the bad news. “How’d you know?”

She sighed. “I heard Kurt and Blaine talking about you. They’re breaking up, you know, because Blaine’s staying here and Kurt’s leaving for New York too. But Kurt was more than a little jealous because you were sticking around, and Blaine didn’t really correct him.”

Sebastian ran his hand through the back of his hair, a little frustrated. “I was really close to graduating early, San. But I got scared, and I realized I don’t  _ actually _ know what I want to do, and New York is a big step. You really only get to graduate high school and go to college once, and I wanna do it right.”

She understood, she really did. But it still hurt. “I… I know. So, are you as good having video sex as you are having in person sex?” she asked half-jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

His eyes went wide and her heart leapt into her throat as he cleared his, saying, “I don’t want to hold you back, Santana. I think we should break up.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” she spat.

“You heard me.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard. I get Blaine and Lady Hummel breaking up, but  _ us _ ? I thought we had more than that. And who are you to say if you’re holding me back or not?  _ I  _ get to make those decisions.”

Sebastian looked at her patiently, kindly almost. She could tell, even while seeing red, that he was not going to change his mind.

“Well, fine.” She got up and smoothed down her white dress. “See you never, I guess.” And with that, she strode out, slamming the door to his room, to Dalton Academy, to Lima, Ohio. She was  _ not _ planning on sticking around for the summer — she was out of here faster than you could blink twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter fast forwards to present-day NYC!


	12. you were the best thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana finds a surprising guest at the diner. [NYC]

**you were the best thing**

_ You were in college working part time waiting tables  
_ _ Left a small town, never looked back  
_ _ I was a flight risk with a fear of fallin'  
_ _ Wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts _

_ Do you remember all the city lights on the water?  
_ _ You are the best thing that's ever been mine. _

_ — Taylor Swift, “Mine” _

* * *

**From the prologue…**

_ It was somewhere between an ungodly early hour and an ungodly late hour. Santana didn’t really know — quite honestly, time tended to flow in a strange wave those nights at the diner. _

_ She wiped down her last table, only to see Rachel point at a previously unoccupied booth. All she could see was the back of his head, his dark and perfectly coiffed hair pissing her off because all she wanted to was sit in the back and organize silverware, not wait on some annoying customer who was probably drunk or a weirdo. _

_ “Maybe he’s famous,” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the table, fighting the urge to curse out Rachel under her breath. She’s trying to be a nicer person to her roommate these days, after all. _

_ “Hi. What can I get you?” she asked. A little hint of snark crept its way into her voice, but she let it slide. After all, she was annoyed. _

_ The dark-haired man looked up from the menu he was studiously perusing. A wide grin flashed across his face as he surveyed her shocked look. _

_ “Hello, Santana,” Sebastian Smythe said. _

_ “Oh fuck,” Santana said. _

* * *

**Present-day, NYC.**

“Is that how they’re saying hello these days?” Sebastian smirked. “Or is that just your way of saying, ‘Hello, Sebastian, it’s good to see you after all these years?’”

“No. I mean, hi.” Santana blamed her lack of an appropriate comeback on her lack of sleep. It gets ya, you know?

He looked hard at her waitress outfit, eyes canvassing the tight red outfit and lingering on the short skirt. She always did look hot in red. “Nice dress.”

She glared at him. “It’s our uniform.”

He shook his head, smiling instead of smirking. “No, I was serious. You look great in it.”

Her glare softened. “I know,” she said, giving  _ him  _ a signature Santana smirk.

She eyed him in turn, taking in his unbuttoned navy blazer, tight white T-shirt, tan chinos, and brown oxfords. “You never can lose the blazer, can you?”

“I’ve been told  _ I  _ look great in it.”

Santana chose not to acknowledge that comment. “What are you doing here, Sebastian?” she asked instead.

“Getting coffee and maybe breakfast? This  _ is _ one of those diners where they serve food, right? Not a front for a prostitution ring?”

“What the  _ hell, _ Sebastian. Is that even a thing?”

He shrugged. “You never know. Anyway, I was kidding. About the prostitutes. Not about the coffee and food. I’m starving.”

“What time is it, even? Why are you out and about?”

“I’m at Columbia. Hoping to get into law school there when I graduate, but I’m majoring in Econ now. Not humble-bragging, I promise, but I  _ did  _ stay up all night working on a paper so that’s that.”

“It does sound like you’re humble bragging a lot, Seb. I’m honestly surprised. Didn’t you get into Tisch at NYU?”

He smiled, his green eyes crinkling. “You remembered.”

“I have a great memory.”

“My dad wasn’t about that life, and honestly, while the Warblers were fun, I don’t see myself being a singer or actor or performer, really. It sounds stuck up, but I really do think I’d make a good lawyer. You know I like arguing.”

Santana laughed a little. “I know.”

“Oh, anyway, yes. Can I have a coffee — like, the biggest you have — and a big-ass plate of pancakes?”

She straightened and pulled her notepad out, scribbling his order on there. “You got it.” She turned.

“Oh, and Santana,” he called as she walked toward the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Will you have breakfast with me?”

She didn’t answer or turn around, but she smiled the rest of the way to the kitchen, her hips swaying a little extra, like they used to when she strode down the halls of McKinley.


	13. some things never change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Santana find that New York City has a way of mending things.

**some things never change**

_ There's just some things that never change  
_ _ You say we're just friends  
_ _ But friends don't know the way you taste _

_ I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya  
_ _ But every touch is ooh la la la _

_ — Camilla Cabello & Shawn Mendes, “Señorita” _

* * *

They picked up like they had never left Lima. The diner became their new hangout spot, even when she wasn’t working. They’d sit in a booth and laugh over his ridiculous assignments; sometimes he listened to her run lines.

She never did figure out how he knew she worked there — maybe it was just a coincidence — but the diner was kinda far from Columbia and not somewhere you’d trek in the early hours of the morning just for a coffee and some “big-ass pancakes.”

Santana didn’t push it, though.

And surprisingly, Rachel didn’t say a word to her about it either as Sebastian’s presence became a regular one. Santana was sure Rachel and Kurt gossiped about it to no end when she wasn’t there, but she didn’t want to ask them about that either.

To Sebastian’s credit, he was very civil to both of his former enemies when he saw them. One might even say he turned over a new leaf, if they were into cliches.

“Guess what?” Santana asked excitedly, as she plopped into the booth across from him.

“Do you want me to guess, or is that just your way of saying that you have something to tell me?”

“Do people  _ ever _ really want you to guess?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You never know.”

“You’d never guess, anyway. But,” she paused for dramatic effect, and Sebastian rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “I landed a commercial!”

His grin flashed across his face and he jumped up to hug her, his long limbs nearly knocking over his entire mug of coffee. “That’s awesome!”

“It’s kinda awkward because it’s for a yeast thing, but still. It’s something. They sent me a first cut.”

“If it’s awkward, I want to watch it.” His green eyes were mirthful, but she knew he  _ was _ happy for her.

She pulled her phone out and motioned for him to slide next to her so they could both watch. Santana had watched the commercial so many times it was almost embarrassing, so she found herself watching Sebastian’s face instead.

If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked proud.

When the commercial ended, he burst into laughter.  “Oh my god.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, no, you were great,” he said in between laughs. “But it’s  _ so _ not you.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s why I’m acting, dummy.”

“I know! Wait. Is this something women seriously have to deal with?”

“Would I be filming an ad for it if it wasn’t? Come  _ on _ , future lawyer. Use your big ol’ brain.”

“Good point.”

“Anyway,” Santana continued as she slid her phone back into her pocket, “Let’s get drinks to celebrate?”

“Sure,” he said. “Your roommates coming?”

“Yeah, I think Rachel is low-key jealous, but she and Kurt want to celebrate with me too.”

“Can my friends come too?”

She feigned surprise. “You have  _ friends _ ?”

“Hey, that’s rude. We’re friends.”

“Are we?”

“Don’t be ornery.”

“Ooh, good word choice.”

“I’m surprised you know what it means.”

She mock-punched him. He rubbed his arm (it actually hurt, unsurprisingly). “I’m not a dumb-ass, dumb-ass,” she quipped.

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up in surrender. “Where and when?”

“The Aviary? 7PM?”

“Ooh, that’s a fancy one. I’m surprised you know it.” That earned him another punch.

“See you there,” she said as she tapped him to let her out of the booth. “Wear nice clothes,” she said as she walked away.

“I literally always do,” he grumbled to her back.

* * *

The Aviary was one of those bars where Santana didn’t even  _ want _ to look at the drink prices. Honestly, she was used to guys  _ and _ girls buying her drinks, and thankfully, Rachel and Kurt were on it tonight.

She checked her phone, wondering where Sebastian was. He was  _ always _ on time.

The screen flashed. “Be there in 5!” the text read. “My friends are being so slow.”

“Typical Ivy Leaguers ;)” she typed, smiling to herself. He must be so annoyed that his friends were ruining his perfect attendance.

She was on her second drink — some cocktail whose name she truly could not pronounce, made with liquor that she had never seen before (currently, she was playing Russian Roulette with the cocktail menu, so that was fun) — when Sebastian strode in.

It was almost like their old high school days, with a posse at his back and… a girl at his side? “What the  _ fuck _ ?” she muttered under her breath.

Kurt and Rachel looked up. From the looks on their faces, she could tell that they were having the same high school deja vu that she was.

“Hi, San,” he said, walking up to her and giving her a hug. “These are my friends Chris, Justin, Evan, Nick, and Jessica.” And,” he pulled the girl who was half standing behind him out, “my girlfriend Celine.”

Santana looked up at the sea of blazer-wearing preppy East Coast boys, with their perfectly white teeth and perfectly coiffed hair, then at the other girl in the group, a dark-haired Asian-looking girl with skin as smooth and caramel as her own, and finally to the pretty blonde girl standing in front of her, with her pearl earrings and innocent-yet-sexy look.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Hey guys,” she said, smiling.

“Guys, this is Santana Lopez, one of my friends from high school and a rising star,” Sebastian said, grinning and pulling her to her feet.

“‘Friend from high school’ is a stretch,” she heard Kurt mutter from behind her.

Rachel stood up too (not that it made a difference, Santana noticed with a quiet laugh. She sometimes forgot how short Rachel was). “Hi, I’m Rachel Berry,” she said brightly. “You’ll probably see me on Broadway someday. I go to NYADA. And this is Kurt. He’ll be on Broadway too. It’s destiny.”

“They’re super talented singers,” Sebastian agreed.

The former McKinley high students stared at him as if he had just sprouted horns. “I — well, thank you,” Rachel managed.

“Anway,” Sebastian said as they all sat down at the bar. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

“Let’s do shots,” Santana said, finishing her cocktail in one gulp. “I’m sick of these girly bitch drinks.” She smirked as Celine’s eyes widened.

The boys and Jessica all cheered.  _ Easy way to win over his friends,  _ Santana thought. “One round of shots,” she called to the bartender, who muttered, “This is not a bar to do shots at,” under his breath.

“Tequila,” she clarified to him, just to be extra annoying. “And don’t forget the limes!”

God, she needed a real drink, ASAP.

* * *

**interlude**

_ So I take another shot, Novocaine _

_ Wish it would numb my heart, numb my brain _

_ But it's all love _

_ — FLETCHER, “All Love” _

* * *

While Santana waited for the shots (god, could the bartender be  _ any slower? _ ), she tuned out of the sounds of Sebastian talking to his girlfriend and the Columbia boys charming Rachel and Kurt.

She kinda just needed a moment alone with her thoughts.

A depressing-ass song came on, played by a gorgeous blonde with really great hair (Santana would bet her fake diamond earrings that she was lesbian or at least bi), and Santana rolled her eyes at the melodrama of it all (if they were still in glee club, no doubt they’d all start singing and dancing)... but felt her eyes sting nonetheless with tears at the words the girl was saying.

_ “When you walk in the bar with someone holding hands  
_ _ introduce me to her, say I'm just an old friend  
_ _ and you ask how I've been  
_ _ I say I'm doing fine but I'm lying.” _

How fucking accurate. Seems like girls for ages had been duped by assholes for ages. Typical.

“She goes to NYU, you know,” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

Santana turned and looked at Sebastian, blinking quickly. She hoped he hadn’t seen her eyes watering like some weak-hearted softy.

“That’s so… irrelevant. Also, how do you know that?”

“Ran into her during a school tour.” He shrugged. “Hey, you okay?”

“Of course. Just a little tired… late night at the diner.” She looked away.

The bartender placed a neat line of shot glasses in front of them, skillfully pouring in tequila. “Here you go,” he said, handing her a literal  _ gold tray  _ of cut limes (what the hell was this place?) and a matching gold salt shaker.

“Guys, shots are here!” Sebastian called. As they clinked shot glasses and downed them, Santana heard the blonde girl sing,

_ “So I take another shot, Novocaine  
_ _ wish it would numb my heart, numb my brain  
_ __ but it's all love.”

It sure was.

Four shots in and Santana was feeling promisingly happier.

Celine had refused to do anything as undignified as that (of course) and was sipping on a glass of Chardonnay like the grandma in a twenty-one-year-old’s body she was. She remained nestled against Sebastian’s side as she did so.

Kurt was drinking Chardonnay too, like the grandma in a twenty-one-year-old’s body  _ he _ was, but he was decidedly  _ not _ nestled against Sebatian’s side.

Rachel was practically chugging water, saying brightly in that annoyingly nasally voice of hers, “I need to stay hydrated so my skin doesn’t look all gross and splotchy! I have a big day tomorrow!” to everyone as she did so.

“One more?” Sebastian asked, raising his empty glass to Santana.

“You can really hold your liquor, Santana,” one of the guys said admiringly. Nick, maybe? To be honest, they all looked a little similar.

“One more,” she said, waving the harried bartender over again. “Please,” she said, batting her eyelashes. She hadn’t gotten extensions for nothing.

They had gathered in a semi-circle around her, and she was feeling more like the queen bee she had been in high school. It felt good, honestly.

Jessica cooed at her dress —  _ you look SO HOT, Santana, red is a really great color on you and you have a great bod _ — and Santana thanked her with a sincere smile (she _did_ like straight girl’s compliments).  _ At least  _ someone _ noticed my outfit,  _ she thought a little bitterly.

A hand brushed against her thigh and she looked up into one of the boys’ blue eyes.  _ Chris _ ? She thought as she tried to match faces to names again.

He met her gaze and kept his hand there.

“Did I tell you guys that I’m bi?” Santana announced suddenly. “But I’m on a girl streak right now.” She winked surreptitiously at Jessica.

“Never stopped me before,” one of Sebatian’s friends said, grinning. Justin.

“That’s hot,” Chris said. He removed his hand from her leg, but his eyes met hers again. Blue. Piercing. She found herself wishing they were green.

Celine looked scandalized but had the grace not to say anything.

Feeling particularly  _ ornery _ , Santana continued. “Don’t look so shocked, Celine. It’s the twenty-first century. And your boyfriend is bi —” 

“Our shots are here,” Sebastian said hurriedly. “Cheers!” He shoved the shot glass into Santana’s hand and downed his own quickly.

“Whooo!” Santana cheered. “To bisexuals!”

“To bisexuals!” Everyone chorused, even the other people at the bar.

“Okay, I need to pee,” she announced as she stood up, a little wobbly on her legs like a newborn deer.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jessica asked, looking a little concerned.

She waved off her offer. “Nah, I’m a big girl. I can do it.”

Sebastian chugged his own glass of water, then stood up. “Whoops, shouldn’t have drank that fast. I’m headed to the bathroom too.” He strode off, leaving a very confused Celine behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLETCHER's entire album 'you ruined new york for me' truly parallels this story without me really meaning it to. the music vid for the song 'all love' was really good too - really encompasses the vibes of this.
> 
> PS lil fun fact - FLETCHER *did* go to NYC and is part of the LBGT community.


	14. i'd rather be your enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian confronts Santana. It doesn't end well.

**i'd rather be your enemy**

_ 'Cause the least I deserve is no conversation  
_ _ I been working all week  
_ _ I'd rather be your enemy  
_ _ Than any friend you think I would be _

_ — The Weeknd, “Enemy” _

* * *

He cornered her in the hallway.

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Santana,” he said.

“What? I thought you were gay. Then I thought you were bi. And now honestly I don’t know, But I didn’t know you had a robot Barbie girlfriend.”

“Her name is  _ Celine _ and she’s not a robot Barbie. And she doesn’t know, but now everyone does, thanks to you!”

“Are you  _ embarrassed,  _ Sebastian Smythe?  _ You _ , who spent so much of his time trying to break up Kurt and Blaine? Who took up so much airspace talking about  _ how hot Blaine was _ ?”

“That was before. I told you. I’m different now.”

“Are you? Or do you just not want your perfect friends and your perfect girlfriend to know the real you? Why are you hiding? Did you think you could just  _ move to New York  _ and be a completely new person, with a completely new identity and sexual orientation and grow up and live your perfect, preppy, rich boy life? You know, if you wanted a Quinn Fabray clone, you should've just skipped past me and gotten with her during high school. Not that she would've given your ass a second look. Think about that, coming in second to Lumpy the Clown, lady boobs Finn.”

“Stop it, Santana!”

“Why should I? I’m just telling you the truth. Something you  _ clearly  _ don’t want to hear. Did you not tell them that you sang in a little boys’ group too? Because they’ll think that’s gay? What about Karofsky? What he did to himself? What you  _ said _ to him? You’re just perpetuating that shame!”

“I said, stop it!” he slammed the wall behind her suddenly, closing the gap between them. His face was inches from hers. “This is my life. This is my business.  _ These are my decisions. _ ”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you came back into my life.”

“I thought we were  _ friends _ , Santana.”

“We were. But I can’t be friends with someone who lies to themselves and their friends about who they really are. You disgust me.”

He drew his face even closer until his mouth was inches from hers. “I. Am Not. Lying.” He was so close Santana could smell the tequila and toothpaste on his breath, thought he might close the gap and let their lips meet again — after all, anger had been where they started their fling back in high school, anger and undeniable sexual attraction...

Sebastian spun around and headed into the men’s bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Santana peed, fluffed her hair in the mirror, reapplied her lipstick, and strode back outside. She grabbed her purse and motioned for Rachel and Kurt to get up. “Well, boys, it’s time. Great to meet you, Jess,” she said, pointedly ignoring Celine. “We have an early day tomorrow. Sebastian told me he’d pick up the tab.  _ So  _ good drinking with y’all. Buh-bye now!”

And she strutted out of the bar with her roommates in tow and her head held high, when all she wanted to do was to run and cry in her bed.

* * *

_ Gotta be honest, I want you to lust for me  
_ _ And if we're just friends, I'd rather be your enemy  
_ _ So we can do all the things you're holding back from me  
_ __ So let's be enemies, yeah

_ — Keke Palmer, “Enemiez”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time (hello, YouTube rabbit hole) watching "best of Santana" moments and her ability to deliver a steady stream of insults without even pausing for breath or for anyone else to even get a word in was kind of amazing, so I tried to recreate that (lol).


	15. i'm better on the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana confides in Kurt and Rachel.

**i'm better on the other side**

_ If you don't wanna see me dancing with somebody  
_ _ If you wanna believe that anything could stop me  
_ _ Don't show up, don't come out  
_ _ Don't start caring about me now  
_ _ Walk away, you know how _

_ — Dua Lipa, “Don’t Start Now” _

* * *

“Santana. What  _ was _ that?” Kurt demanded.

“Honestly, I kind of had a terrible time,” Rachel interjected.

They were all squished into the backseat of a cab, Rachel in the middle, thanks to habit. The only time Rachel conceded to anything, but she  _ was  _ the smallest.

Santana tore her gaze from the window and looked at them, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” Kurt said.

“Santana, I haven’t seen you cry since…”  _ Finn died,  _ were the unspoken words that hung in the air.

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing away the tears angrily. “Can we talk about this at home?”

The cab driver looked at them all too knowingly. He was probably used to crying girls in the back of his cab.

“At least you’re not throwing up,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

“No problem,” Santana said. “The one thing I can do is hold my liquor.”

* * *

They made their way into the loft, each more exhausted from the interaction with the Columbia students than from the drinks they’d had.

Rachel had felt like an outcast again, the girl who wasn’t pretty or cool or popular enough, watching while all the guys and girls swarmed around someone else. She had honestly felt kind of bad for Celine, Sebastian’s girlfriend, who seemed to be a carbon copy of Quinn, down to her almost-too-calm and put together demeanor.

(If there was anyone who was destined to be married to a trust fund Ivy Leaguer, it was Quinn Fabray.)

Kurt had felt out of his element in this bar with college boys who didn’t seem to be interested in the arts or in him. He missed Blaine a lot, and seeing all these guys in preppy blazers did nothing to help assuage the ache of wanting someone you couldn’t have.

(Though if there was someone who knew what that ache felt like, it was Blaine. He missed Kurt every day, though he didn’t say anything about it.)

Santana was just  _ done _ with it all, with feeling like she finally had something good in her life, only to have it go to shit too quickly. Was it her fault? Honestly, who knew. Things always did seem to turn out that way.

(Though if she were honest with herself, she should’ve seen it coming. Santana never did get her heart broken easily, but Sebastian was the one person she could count on to do it.)

As they all went through their nighttime routines in the overcrowded, too small bathroom, they eventually made their way onto the couch. Kurt had grabbed his man-pillow and needing some extra (albeit creepy) comfort, Rachel and Santana grabbed theirs too.

“Santana, do you want to talk about it?” Rachel asked softly.

Sometimes, Santana felt bad for being such a bitch to Rachel. She truly was a good person, although a little self-absorbed and power-hungry at times. (But again, who wasn’t?)

“Yeah, wait,” Kurt interjected. “ _ Isn’t Sebastian gay? _ ”

“Yeah, okay,” Santana said. “So… it’s a long story.”

They both looked at her expectantly. She sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll tell you. But don’t fall asleep on me, or I swear to God I will never tell either of you anything ever again.”

They nodded. “We won’t,” Rachel promised earnestly.

“Okay. So Sebastian and I — you might’ve noticed — we became close again when I saw him in the diner the other night. I don’t know, we just started hanging out more, and I guess we became friends —”

“Wait, close  _ again _ ? You were close  _ before _ ?” Kurt interrupted.

“No questions,” Santana snapped. “My time, not yours.”

“No, seriously,” Rachel agreed. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, fine. So we might’ve been hooking up for a bit after that whole rock Slushie that nearly blinded Blaine and all that.”

“ _ What!? _ ”

“Yeah. So like I was saying —”

“You can’t just  _ breeze by that detail! _ ” Kurt screeched. “Also, how  _ could _ you? He nearly  _ blinded Blaine! _ ”

Rachel looked like she was thinking hard. Santana could practically see her doing the math in her head. “Is that who you were seeing that made you realize you were bi, not lesbian?”

“Yes,” Santana said. “And Kurt, it’s none of your business who I see. You don’t see me getting into your love life. Like I was saying, we were hanging out and I might have started feeling something for him again. I thought he did too, until he turned up with his weird Quinn-clone and tried to hide the fact that he’s bi too.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” said Kurt.

“What did I say about interrupting?” Santana demanded.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Long night,” he said pointedly.

“So he cornered me in the hallway,” Santana continued. “And basically yelled at me for daring to say that he was anything but perfectly straight and why would I say that in front of his friends and girlfriend, blah blah blah. So I told him he was lying to himself and his friends and his robot Barbie of a girlfriend and then I told him I couldn’t be friends with a dirty liar. Then he went to pee and I left. And thanks to me, we didn’t have to pay a cent tonight. Those rich-ass white boys paid it all.”

Kurt and Rachel just stared at her.

“That’s… a lot,” Kurt said.

“He kind of seemed good for you,” Rachel offered softly, “You seemed happier and, well, less bitchy when you were hanging out with him.

“Whatever. I can be a bitch if I want to. It’s one of my many charming personality traits. And good riddance. I don’t need him in my life. Thanks for listening; now I would like to sleep. Good night.” She stood up and brushed off her pajamas vigorously.

“Give us a hug, San,” Rachel said, wrapping her arms around her roommate.

Santana groaned, but smiled as she disappeared into her roommates’ embraces. She had to admit, it did feel comforting.

“Thank you for being there tonight,” she said softly.

* * *

As she left, Kurt and Rachel looked at each other. “Should we do something?” Rachel whispered.

“I still hate Sebastian’s guts,” Kurt hissed.

“You can hate him from afar. I still think he’s good for Santana,” Rachel said.

“Fine.” 


	16. from the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you have two stubborn people, it's a game of "who can apologize last."

**from the other side**

_ I must've called a thousand times  
_ _ To tell you I'm sorry  
_ _ For everything that I've done  
_ _ But when I call you never s _ _ eem to be home _

_ — Adele, “Hello” _

* * *

Life went on as usual. Santana goes to work, goes to auditions, goes home, eats, sleeps. Repeats. It wasn't a bad life, but it seemed emptier somehow without Sebastian.

But she was too proud to say 'I'm sorry.' Besides, it _wasn't_ her fault. He was the one who decided to act like an asshole, decided to drag his girlfriend to the bar to celebrate _Santana's_ ad, paraded her in front of Santana like he was rubbing his good fortune in her face.

She was done with that bullshit.

Brittany comes to her mind, sweet sweet Brittany who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, who would never ever do that to Santana. It was so much easier with Brittany... and yet.

And yet Santana stilled missed Sebastian, missed the fire and the sunlight that had been their relationship, missed the early morning coffee and late-night pancakes at the diner. She missed his stupid smirk and his neatly pressed preppy boy clothes, missed the way he smiled and the way his green eyes danced as he laughed. She missed yelling at him, missed kissing him (even though that was something they hadn't done since high school), missed the way he felt wrapped around her.

 _Oh... fuck._ Santana stopped in the middle of brushing her teeth and spat our toothpaste out angrily in the sink. _I'm in love with Sebastian fucking Smythe. Fucking fantastic._

* * *

Celine was too well-bred to say anything to Sebastian. He was the perfect boyfriend after all, kind and courteous and rich. Great grades, heading into pre-law. Romantic, always on time. His friends seemed to like her; he didn't seem to be hiding anything. If anything, his green eyes were a little too transparent and vulnerable for someone who was born with that much money.

Maybe it was the Ohio in him.

So she thought nothing about their interaction with Santana Lopez. Honestly, she was just glad to be out of the bar, out of the place where Sebastian's boys were rowdy, the Latina girl was just too much, the NYADA girl was deeply annoying, and the gay boy was deeply insecure. Celine was glad to be putting it all behind her, and Sebastian seemed to be glad of that too.

He hadn't said anything on their cab ride back. He was unusually quiet, but when they got to his apartment, he pulled in her in close and kissed her with a hint of desperation. His hands snuck under her neat skirt and Celine had pushed him away. "Not now, Sebastian," she had said. Celine wasn't saving herself for marriage (who was, these days?), but she wanted each time to be romantic. Candles, roses, champagne after dinner. Not what felt like a hookup coming from a drunk night at the bar.

Sebastian had drawn back like he was burned. "Okay," he said a little too quickly.

"Can you call me an Uber back to my place? I have an early day tomorrow."

He nodded and she headed back home, a little relieved.

* * *

Sebastian always had a quick temper, but these days, he seemed to be ready to spontaneously combust.

Something had gotten under his skin, itching uncomfortably. It felt like a strange mix of guilt and shame and regret, and he hated it. But he had midterms coming up, so he shoved those thoughts aside to concentrate on his classes.

That's why he didn't call Santana, he told himself.

He'd always been far too good at lying — especially to himself. Because it was quite obvious that the _something_ that had gotten under his skin was really a _someone_.

It was Jess who had finally snapped.

"Sebastian Smythe, what the fuck are you doing?" she had demanded, the fire in her eyes and her dark hair looking so like Santana's that he had to catch his breath for a second.

"What?" he said innocently.

"Stop fucking around with Celine and Santana!"

"What?"

"Okay, I'm going to be real with you."

"When have you not?" he muttered, only to earn a glare from his much-shorter friend.

"I may have... accidentally been listening to your guys' conversation at the bar." She cut him off with a glare as he opens his mouth to protest. "It doesn't matter if you're gay, bi, straight, or anything else to me or the rest of us — we're your friends. And we love you for you. But pretending to be someone you're not just to make Celine happy? It's not fair to her or yourself. And is it even really making you or her happy? Plus," here she paused for dramatic effect, but also to catch her breath because her tirade was taking up a lot of energy, "don't act like you don't like Santana. I can practically _feel_ the sexual tension whenever you guys are in the room. You used to date, didn't you?"

"We used to fuck," he mumbled.

Jessica raised an eyebrow.

"Okay! We used to date. We broke up before she left for New York."

They were both quiet for a long time before Sebastian suddenly rubbed his hand over his face, looking tired and a little too sad. _Almost like a sad puppy,_ Jess thought.

"You're right, Jess," he said.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you."

He grinned. "I said you're right. Don't get too cocky."

"I'm always right." She sniffed imperiously, then looked serious again. "Are you going to apologize to Santana?"

He looked serious too. "I hate apologizing. But I think I will. I... I miss her, and it's only been a few weeks."

Jessica nodded, pulled his phone from out of his hand, found Santana Lopez on his speed dial, and called her before shoving the phone back into Sebastian's hand. "Good luck."


	17. you're no good for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Santana forgive Sebastian? The million-dollar question.
> 
> (Turns out Rachel and Kurt's help wasn't needed after all.)

**you're not good for me**

_ You're no good for me  
_ _ But baby, I want you _

_ — Lana Del Rey, “Diet Mountain Dew” _

* * *

“What do you want.” It wasn’t a question. Santana’s words rarely were.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian blurted, before he chickened out.

“Really.” He could hear the harshness in her voice. Santana Lopez never did forgive and forget easily. She always preferred to hold her grudges tight to her chest, wear them in her heart, keep them underneath the surface to fuel the anger that would undoubtedly bubble from her at one point or another.

“Really. I was out of line. You were right… I was trying to hide, to be the perfect guy that my dad always wanted me to be. I thought that if I could just get my perfect life together, then I’d finally get my dad’s approval.” He paused. Where the actual fuck did that come from? He’d meant to apologize, not go all deep and psychoanalyze himself. But yet, here he was.

He could hear her breathing over the line in the silence following his admission.

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Okay?” he asked, a little incredulously.

“I’m sorry too.” She sighed, a little huff. He could practically see her letting the air from her lungs. Belatedly, he wished she were here with him. Wished he was doing this in person. “I was out of line too,” she admitted. “I was honestly a little jealous of Celine. She’s the perfect girlfriend, smart and rich and classy. Not that I’m not a hot piece of ass, but you know. She’s everything I’d never be.”

They’re both quiet. They were never one for phone confessions, and yet. Here they were.

“Where are you?” he asked suddenly.

“Rachel and Kurt’s apartment. They’re out. I was going over lines for my audition.” The curiosity in her voice bled through the phone.

“Can I come over? What’s the address?”

She gave him the address and tried to ignore the fluttering of hope that sprouted in her chest.

* * *

He was dressed more casually than she’d seen him in a while, decked out in grey sweats and a soft green t-shirt that brought out the hues of his eyes. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it several times in frustration. Honestly, he probably had.

Santana glanced at the clock. “Wow, Smythe. Ten minutes. Record time in New York traffic.”

He was a little out of breath, but he grinned anyway. “Couldn’t wait to see you, Lopez.”

Santana grinned back. The stupid feeling of hope wouldn’t go away. In fact, it was growing stronger. “So, what did you want?” she asked carefully.

His eyes closed for a long moment. Santana was just about to ask if he was okay when his eyes sprang back open and there was a fire in them she hadn’t seen in a long while. He strode in, slammed the door, and crashed his lips into hers.

Santana felt like her heart was going to explode.

“Celine?” she mumbled as they drew apart for air.

“I broke up with her in the car.”

Santana pulled away fully. “Did you break up with her  _ over a phone call? _ ”

He looked ashamed. “Uh. No. Over text.”

She smacked him. “That’s an asshole move.”

“I’m… kind of an asshole.”

“You should apologize. After we finish making out.”

“Is that  _ all _ we’re going to do?” His eyebrows waggled and his notorious smirk was back. Santana smacked him again.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He did. (And no, that was  _ not _ all he did.)

* * *

And when they were in bed and breathless, languidly draped over each other, Sebastian said the words he never thought he’d say. “I love you, Santana.”

It was something that had been building within him for  _ years _ , a feeling of hope and possibility that lived in his heart. It was something that he had never dared to admit to anyone, much less himself, but he realized that it was time to let go of his fears. What more could he lose??

Santana’s mouth dropped open and she didn’t say anything for a heartbeat. Sebastian was about to take it all back (how  _ do _ you take an admission like that back?), but then she kissed him devilishly. “I love you too, Seb.”

* * *

_ Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City  
_ _ Never was there ever a girl so pretty  
_ _ Do you think we'll be in love forever?  
_ __ Do you think we'll be in love?

_ — Lana Del Rey, “Diet Mountain Dew” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this - the epilogue! :)


	18. as long as you're here with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later (epilogue).

**as long as you're here with me**

_ To be young and in love in New York City  
_ _ To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me _

_ — Lauv, “I Like Me Better” _

* * *

**_Five years later. (Present-day)_ **

“Seb, we’re going to be late!” Santana’s smoothing her red dress for the millionth time, checking her red lipstick out in the mirror, fluffing her curled hair. “No amount of primping can change your meerkat face,” she joked slyly, sidling up to her husband in the bathroom.

He feigns hurt. “That’s so mean, San.”

“You can take it.”

The pitter-patter of little feet stops them both. “Whassa a  _ mercat _ , Mama?” the little boy with green eyes and caramel skin asks.

Santana bursts out laughing. “An animal that Daddy looks like.” She smirks, daring Sebastian to argue.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, buddy.” He shrugs good-naturedly.

“Otay,” Josie says, giving his parents a smile that shone brighter than the sun. “I miss you both aweady.” He reaches his arms up for a hug, and both parents immediately scoop him up, despite their finery.

“We love you, Josie-boy,” they murmur. Santana buries her head in his hair, Sebastian’s eyes soften and grow glassy.

They put him down, give him a final kiss, give strict instructions to the babysitter to  _ not _ let him play on the iPad after eight o’clock, and head out the door.

“I can’t believe you’re getting an award for playing a superhero in a CW show,” Santana says. “I always said you’d be a CW  _ villain. _ You have the hair for it.”

He feigns looking affronted. “I can’t believe you got an award for playing an adultress in the biggest musical of all time. I always thought you’d be the innocent damsel in distress.”

She glares at him. “I’d never.”

He stops her next words with a kiss. “Love you, San.”

“Love you, Seb.”

They hold hands, breathing in tandem as they prepare for their first big awards ceremony. They’d never thought they’d make it, never thought that Sebastian would say ‘fuck it’ to law halfway through and audition for a slew of shows (acting had felt better than singing, at that point), only to land his very own. They’d never thought that  _ Hamilton _ would be the smashing hit it had become. They’d never thought that they would have a kid of their own, a beautiful three-year-old boy who they could not imagine their lives without.

They’d never thought they’d be this happy, but here they are.

Together.

**END.**

* * *

_ To be drunk and in love in New York City  
_ _ Midnight into morning coffee  
_ _ Burning through the hours talking  
_ __ Damn, I like me better when I'm with you

_ — Lauv, “I Like Me Better” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I am CRYING. I've long been a culprit of not multi-chapter finishing fanfics (lol), but quarantine has been great for my creativity. Thank you so much for sticking with me and this story over the past few months <3
> 
> I love the idea of them having their own happy ending; had to tie in a little bit of real world-ness in it too.
> 
> RIP Naya Rivera; you and your family are always in my heart.


End file.
